


Ready

by SyntheticWinter



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-21
Updated: 2013-09-21
Packaged: 2017-12-27 05:35:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/975035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SyntheticWinter/pseuds/SyntheticWinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m always careful,” Jack said out of the corner of his mouth. “Just be ready with the handcuffs.”</p>
<p>“If I had a penny for every time you’ve used that line,” Ianto deadpanned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ready

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this, from the book Bay of the Dead:
> 
> Jack moved forward to greet him [Trys – the zombie-thing], but Ianto said, “Careful, Jack.”
> 
> “I’m always careful,” Jack said out of the corner of his mouth. “Just be ready with the handcuffs.”
> 
> “If I had a penny for every time you’ve used that line,” Ianto deadpanned.

Ianto was supremely good at many things. Making coffee, being invisible, anticipating others’ needs, keeping things running on time and on target. All of these, Ianto excelled at. 

In fact, he considered himself a very calm individual, someone who was prepared for anything and had at least two contingency plans, just in case. Above all, he considered himself ready. Ready to throw himself at a Weevil as it stalked towards Jack. Ready to tackle the mess the archives were in when he was hired. Ready to do anything to save Lisa. Ready to sacrifice himself to give Tosh a chance to escape. Ready to set his own needs aside for the good of the team. Ready to kill if the monsters in that warehouse caused the others to be killed by that bloody whale.

Later, he learned to be emotionally ready for things. Because the truth was, he hadn’t been, not for all of that. But now he was. He was finally ready to respond to Jack’s flirtatious overtures. Ready to take some initiative and proposition the man. Ready to let himself become a full member of the team, field work and after-hours drinks included. Ready to start to forgive himself for Lisa, for betraying the team, for betraying Jack. Ready to let himself start to live again.

So yes, he generally thought of himself as ready. However, no matter how many times he found himself in this situation, there was always something undeniably off-putting about it – something, he admitted to himself, exciting. 

For Ianto now found himself in Jack’s bunker beneath Torchwood, with the order to “be ready with the handcuffs.” The number of times Jack had used that line, either seriously or just to torment him in the presence of the others… Well, no one could ever say that Ianto wasn’t ready. 

He was currently splayed out naked on Jack’s bed, toying with the handcuffs while he waited. They were the sort Torchwood used for Weevils, strong, thick metal. He shivered at the thought. He heard Jack’s steps above and quickly rested the cool metal on his bare chest, laying his arms loosely at his sides. The first time Jack had used that line, Ianto had taken it to mean he should restrain himself to the bed. Jack had not been displeased, but over time Ianto had come to love the eroticism of having Jack do it for him. 

Jack came down the ladder, a grin lighting his face at the sight of Ianto spread out for him. He stripped quickly, and at any other time Ianto would have chastised him for throwing his clothes this way and that instead of hanging them up properly, or at least draping them neatly somewhere. But right now he was far too interested in what Jack was revealing to care too much about details.

Jack climbed on the bed and settled between Ianto’s slightly spread thighs, pushing them wider with his own. “Hands above your head.” Something in Jack’s demeanor told Ianto this wouldn’t be a stopwatch night.

He tipped his head back to watch as Jack threaded the cuffs through the bars running across the headboard and fastened them around Ianto’s wrists. He tugged on them lightly, testing. He could probably get out of them if he had to, but it would be difficult. He tugged against them again, enjoying the restriction.

Jack settled back on his heels and just looked at him for a long moment, until Ianto started to shift uncomfortably under the scrutiny. He felt his skin flush as Jack spread his legs wider and studied him here, too. Ianto squirmed when Jack’s fingers brushed the inside of his thigh, trailing slowly higher. He bit his lip, waiting, waiting.

When Jack’s fingers bypassed his cock entirely in favor of stroking over his hip bones, he made a small sound. Jack’s eyes shot up to his and he smirked, his fingers continuing their travels up Ianto’s ribs. Jack leaned down suddenly and bit sharply at one of Ianto’s collarbones. He gasped and arched, the pain of it blurring with the pleasure of Jack’s fingers on his chest. He was already so hard.

Jack’s fingertips brushed his nipple and he gasped. It was amazing to him sometimes how good the simplest things could feel. Jack did it again, and he pressed his chest upwards as much as he could. Jack obliged the silent request, pinching the hard nub between thumb and forefinger and rolling it gently, his other hand stroking along the length of Ianto’s thigh.

Jack kissed him then, and he responded hungrily, parting his lips to let Jack’s tongue inside. Their tongues tangled together for long moments before Ianto pushed back into Jack’s mouth, intent on doing some exploring of his own. Jack moaned quietly above him when he brushed that one spot on the roof of his mouth.

Jack broke the kiss and smiled wickedly down at him. He reached for the key on top of the stand next to the bed and unlocked the cuffs, quickly closing one back around Ianto’s wrist and the other around one of the headboard bars. Ianto flexed his fingers and rotated his wrist as Jack released his hand. Jack leaned in close and nipped at Ianto’s earlobe, whispering, “Prepare yourself,” as he gave Ianto’s cock a few quick, hard strokes. Then, he pulled back to watch. 

Ianto drew his knees up and considered. Seeing as he wouldn’t be able to reach the lube in the drawer of the tiny nightstand and Jack was making no move to retrieve it either, Ianto brought (raised?) his newly freed hand to Jack’s lips.

He pushed his fingers inside and Jack took them, eyelids fluttering, cheeks hollowing, teeth scraping lightly over knuckles. A warm, wet tongue swirled over and around his fingers, forcing a moan from Ianto’s throat. He pulled the digits from Jack’s mouth and reached down to his own entrance. The movement pulled on his (restrained) shoulder, and the angle was awkward at best, but he managed.

It had taken him a while to get used to doing this, and he still preferred it when Jack prepared him. The feeling of his own fingers inside him wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly, but it was always so much more pleasurable when the fingers were Jack’s.

He pushed one finger inside quickly, hissing at the slight burn. He added a second and his back arched as he gasped sharply, trying to convince his racing heart to let him take deep breaths and relax. This would be so much easier if Jack… 

He was just about to add a third when Jack reached down and stopped him, holding his hand still while Ianto’s fingers remained inside himself. The heat in Jack’s eyes as he watched his own finger slide in next to Ianto’s was almost enough for him to overcome his embarrassment at the loud moan he let out, both at the additional stretch and at the feeling of Jack finally touching him. His back arched again as he tried to push down, tried to get the fingers deeper, but the movement tugged at his already strained shoulder and he stilled, just being made to take it.

Jack pushed in a second finger and he couldn’t stop the low whine. Jack smirked, twisting his own fingers, and Ianto’s with them. Voice low and rough, he murmured, “God, you’re so tight, Ianto.” Ianto whimpered and arched, utterly disregarding the pain in his bound shoulder. The bastard. Jack knew perfectly well what his voice saying things like that did to Ianto.

Jack continued to fingerfuck him with both their hands, driving him higher and higher. Ianto was panting, sweating, so close to coming and desperate for that release. Jack pressed their fingers deeper and he cried out, straining towards that edge, and then-

Jack pulled back, removing his own fingers and then Ianto’s as well. Despite the relief in his aching shoulder, Ianto made a sound of disappointment as Jack pressed a kiss to his palm and laid his hand down more comfortably beside him. Jack smirked at him, a promise in his darkened eyes as he leaned over to retrieve the lube. The snick of the cap was loud, even over their heavy breathing, and Ianto tensed in anticipation. Jack leaned down to place a chaste kiss on his lips, then whispered, “Relax,” as he slid two fingers back inside Ianto, spreading the lubrication. The fingers disappeared, and Ianto watched as Jack squeezed more lube onto his palm and stroked himself.

Then Jack lifted Ianto’s knees to his shoulders and shifted into position and there was insistent pressure and then he was being stretched, filled, opened up. He panted through it, trying to will himself to accept the thickness that pressed into him. Despite the extensive preparation, it still burned a little, as it always did, muscles being forced to accommodate something that large. Jack settled against him and rested their foreheads together, their breath mingling. Ianto brought his still free hand up to tangle in Jack’s hair, tugging him in closer for a kiss. 

As Jack began to move, the hand fell away to tangle in the sheets. The slick glide of Jack’s cock inside him felt as good as it always did, and he allowed his head to loll to the side, giving Jack’s mouth access to his neck. Jack’s teeth nipped at his jawline before settling over his pulse point, worrying the skin gently. He suckled at the same spot before biting down, not hard enough to break skin but definitely enough to leave a mark. The satisfied expression on his face when he pulled back told Ianto that was exactly what he’d intended.

Jack shifted his grip on Ianto’s hips, changing his angle slightly. He did it again, and on the next thrust in, Ianto’s arm blurred as he brought it to his mouth, biting down hard on his wrist to hold back his cries of pleasure. Jack saw what he was doing and frowned disapprovingly, halting the movement of his hips. He gently took hold of Ianto’s arm, raised it to his own lips and kissed the spot where Ianto’s teeth had left deep impressions in the skin before setting the arm back on the bed.

Jack resumed thrusting, smooth slide in, pressing hard against his prostate, glorious friction as he withdrew. Ianto’s fingers curled into a fist around the sheets, twisting them utterly out of shape. He couldn’t find it in him to care. He moved with Jack, canting his hips to take him deeper, moaning as Jack leaned closer and he caught the scent of spice and leather and sandalwood and something indefinably Jack. He arched up, heedless of the pull on his shoulder, to bury his face against Jack’s neck, breathing him in. He licked at the skin beneath his lips and Jack moaned above him.

Their rhythm sped up almost without either of them meaning to, Jack’s hips snapping forwards in an ever increasing tempo while Ianto’s rose to meet them. It always amazed Ianto how good this felt, the burning fullness of Jack inside him, the sparks of pleasure pulsing within him. He’d never felt anything like this before Jack. Maybe Jack was just the world’s best lover, but there was something about him. Ianto couldn’t imagine feeling like this with anyone else, man or woman. Maybe it had something to do with his feelings for Jack; he didn’t know. He only knew it had never been like this with Lisa, never this intense, all-consuming passion and fire that seemed to take over his very being. He could think of nothing but Jack, Jack’s skin against his, Jack’s body over his, in his. Jack’s labored breathing and quiet gasps and moans, Jack’s passion-dark eyes staring into his almost as deeply as Jack’s cock penetrated his body.

He felt like Jack could read everything he knew must be showing in his eyes, and he reached his hand up to drag Jack down into a passionate kiss. Their tongues tangled, sliding together wetly, and Ianto moaned, gasping for breath between thrusts. One of Ianto’s legs slipped from Jack’s shoulder, but before Jack could replace it, Ianto wrapped it around his waist, using the added leverage to push himself harder against Jack, to drive Jack deeper inside him.

He was so close.

Jack seemed to know. He sped up, nailing Ianto’s prostate on every thrust now, and reached down with one hand to stroke Ianto’s cock. Two, three, four quick jerks and Ianto was coming, arching his back sharply, vision whiting out. Above him, Jack grunted as the muscles surrounding his cock suddenly clenched tight. Ianto watched as he ran his fingers through the come coating Ianto’s stomach and chest and brought them to his own mouth, sucking the digits clean and moaning around them. Ianto moaned faintly at the sight, though he was in no shape to get hard again. Jack leaned down and kissed him, offering him a taste of himself as he thrust harder and faster, shuddering as he slammed his hips deep and spilled himself inside Ianto, his cry muffled by Ianto’s tongue in his mouth.

The kiss turned languid as they came down. Slowly, Jack lowered Ianto’s legs from over his shoulder and around his waist. Ianto groaned, feeling a stiffness in one knee that hadn’t been there an hour ago. God, was he getting old already? Jack retrieved the key from the bedside table and unlocked the remaining cuff, rubbing his thumb in gentle circles over the tender flesh. Ianto winced and looked at his wrist. Yep. He could already see the bruises forming. And, judging by the darkening of Jack’s expression, he wasn’t the only one. 

So… no rolling up his sleeves for a few days.

Jack glared at him, still massaging his wrist almost absently, a question and a threat in his eyes. 

“It’s fine, Jack,” Ianto sighed. “It’s just a bruise.”

Jack looked away. “I hate hurting you.”

Ianto reached out and cupped Jack’s jaw, turning him back to meet his eyes. “I know,” he said simply. But sometimes we both need it, he didn’t say. It wasn’t about the pain, anyway. It was about the control. About having it, in Jack’s case, and about losing it, in Ianto’s. Sometimes, it was important to just let go and feel. Did he want Jack to hurt him? Not really. But if it came as a side effect of what they did, then so be it. It hadn’t really hurt at the time, and it probably wouldn’t really hurt tomorrow. The bruises – on his wrists and on his neck and collarbone – would just be physical reminders every time he caught sight of them of what they’d done, of the fact that he was Jack’s, and Jack was his. 

Jack pulled out of him and shifted so they lay side by side on the much-too-small-for-two-people bed, pulling Ianto close to his chest. They were both sticky with drying come and sweat, and it would be unpleasant to peel apart in the morning, but right now it didn’t matter. As he nuzzled into Jack’s neck and started to drift off to sleep, he thought he heard Jack whisper something, something he himself had been thinking but carefully not saying for months. He fell asleep with a smile on his lips and the thought that in the morning, he would find a way to tell Jack he loved him.


End file.
